In a Time of War
by Luckynumber28
Summary: 1942, German occupied France. After an aiding a Résistance attack on a Nazi supply train, Delphine Rousseau finds a strange pair of children in the winter wood. The twin boys speak no French and do not understand the world they find themselves in. Delphine becomes their surrogate mother and defends them when their worlds collide, ushering in a figure of the boys' nightmares.
1. Midnight Wood

The children ran through the midnight wood. The sky overhead was pitch; not a star could break through the cloud cover. However, the horizon was brightly lit golden red. The glow licked the paths clear for them to see, the bare trees overhead shivering with November. One of the boys tripped over a root lurching up from the sod. His brother stopped and turned. His breath came heavily and materialized in the chilled air.

"Come, we must go." He persisted, dragging the fallen boy to his feet, "We must keep going."

"To where, _muindor_?"

"I don't know but we must."

The boys picked up their speed as the sound of what seemed to be horse hooves came from behind them. Blind terror drove them deeper into the forest. However, the boy that had fallen soon lagged behind.

"My foot." He cried, stumbling to the ground.

His brother turned toward the roaring sound and realized it was too sharply repetitive to be a horse in gallop. He crouched by his brother and listened more intently, his heart pounding hard in his ears.

"What is making that?" He breathed, dark eyes wide.

His brother shook his head, his face bright white in the bitter cold. He blinked as he looked past his brother's shoulder.

"There is someone." He whispered.

Suddenly, a figure broke through the trees. Gasping audibly, the figure burst forth unto the path where the children lay exposed and terrified. The children huddled together. The stronger of the two gripped the hilt of the small knife he had been given in his pocket. However, neither of them could move for fear as the figure stumbled towards them.

The stranger was hooded and breathing heavily, walking with a slight limp. They came to a halt right before the trembling children. The boy with the knife stood and brandished his pitiful weapon. The figure threw back their hood. A flash of light behind them, a blossoming explosion that stretched to the blackened sky, illuminated the face of a young woman. She studied them quizzically, as though she were in a dream. Without a word, the dark haired woman knelt to the ground and abruptly took the knife from the child's hand. The boy gasped, reaching out too late for it.

"T'es qui?" She breathed, her eyes running over his form, "Qui es-tu, ma petite?

Though the children could not understand what she was saying, there was a kindness in her voice that reminded them both of their mother.

Nimloth. She had pushed them beneath the bed before taking the fine sword mounted on the wall and running out into the hallway. That was the last they had seen of her before the cruel elves had taken them deep into the wood and left them. Starved and beyond exhaustion, all the boys could do at the sound of a kind voice was weep.

"Mes poulettes, être encore." She begged, pulled them to their feet and tucking them under her long coat, "Les Allemands, les Allemands!"

They looked up at her, their faces uncomprehending. She seemed to realize they did not understand what she was saying.

"German." She spoke, the boys still looking up at her as the explosions behind them continued to grow, "Nazi."

* * *

Delphine tipped back the full glass of wine, wincing as her grandmother inspected the wound to her shin. A piece of shrapnel had lodged itself in her leg.

"An inch over and this would have severed a vein." Her grandmother grumbled, peering at the torn skin over her glasses.

Delphine hissed through her teeth as the jagged shard of metal was pulled none too gently from her flesh. She took a long pull of the wine, a droplet of the liquid trailed down her chin.

"Wipe your mouth." Grandmother growled under her breath as she dabbed at the blood coming freely now from her wound, "Tell me about the children."

"They were just in the woods." Delphine replied, running her sleeve over her mouth, "I found them by themselves. They don't speak French."

"Nor any other language I have ever heard." Grandmother stood, pulling Delphine's free hand to put pressure on her leg, "Hold that, you'll need more bandages."

Delphine glanced over to the open bedroom door. In the glow of the kitchen fire, she could see the boys' forms curled up on the bed covered in a red and green quilt. How strange they looked to her and yet more beautiful than any children she had ever seen. Clearly, they were twins. Onyx black hair fell to their little shoulders, their faces bright and open with disturbingly blue eyes. Their clothing was odd; short robes made of cloth she could not recognize. These were not peasant children.

"They might have escaped from the latest German shipment to the camps." Her grandmother returned, her tone blunt.

Taking Delphine's hand from her wound roughly, she began to clean the ripped flesh. Delphine reached over and refilled her glass. She didn't care if she got drunk. After what she had witnessed that night, a comfortably detached numbness was appealing. Her grandmother reached out and roughly yanked the bottle from her hand without looking up.

"If they are, the soldiers will come looking for them." She continued, picking up a needle and sterilizing it with the flame of a nearby candle, "We need to be prepared to hide them and answer questions."

Delphine nodded grimly, "Mémé."

The old woman paused. She set down the needle and looked up at her only grandchild with sharp grey eyes. The fire light invaded the creases running through her furrowed brow. She narrowed her eyebrows.

"Mémé, I am sorry if I have caused you pain by my involvement with the Résistance," She leant forward, laying a hand on her grandmother's knee, "But I just cannot stand by any more and do nothing."

"Well," Her grandmother brushed away her hand, her face flinching with unspoken emotion, "You should be thinking of more than yourself now. Best be putting away such heroics. You have picked yourself up some real responsibilities and they are sleeping soundly in your bed."

Without another word, Delphine's grandmother dug the threaded needle into her grandchild's shin and began to sew up the wound.


	2. Found in Translation

The dark child picked up the worn, sepia photograph on the low table by the door. He studied the young face of the handsome man. He looked proud, clad in strange clothes with pieces of metal pinned to the breast of his robe. The child's brother came up beside him, looking down at the picture.

"What is it?" His brother asked, reaching out and touching the frame, "A painting or weaving?"

The other boy shrugged, "I don't know."

The younger woman entered into the home. The fierce wind outside had blown away the clouds of the night. Removing the kerchief from her head, she spotted them in the corner with the picture. The boy realized that the man had the same eyes as the girl. She smiled gently and approached them.

"Mon père," She whispered, taking the picture from them and looking at it briefly before setting it down.

Though he did not understand her language, the child knew what she meant. _Ada_. His own father had been a king and his hair had been the same color as the girl who had saved them in the woods.

"Père?" He ventured quietly, glancing back at the picture.

The same, sad smile graced the girl's face once more. She knelt before them, smoothing their long hair over their worn robes.

"Who is the man in the picture?" His brother whispered to him.

"Her father." The boy replied, "I think he's dead."

"Like ours."

The boys fell silent as the old woman who had wrapped them in blankets and fed them warm milk the night before entered the room. She eyed the three of them before walking over to the kitchen hearth and stirring the pot simmering there.

The boys gripped each other by the hand as the women spoke to each other very quickly. The chattering was nothing either of them had heard from elves or men. Some of the words came out from the throat harshly while others seemed to slide over the tongue like honey. It was terrifying and at the same time wildly intriguing. The old woman nodded towards the boys and spoke firmly. The girl pursed her lips. She turned to the children and held out both hands. Tentatively, they took her fingers, bright eyes wide on her face.

* * *

After bathing the boys in the large, copper tub, Delphine trimmed back their long hair. The boys did not protest. They were too distracted by their surroundings. Though she despaired of having to cut their lustrous, coal black locks, Grandmother was right that it would only draw the wrong attention. Delphine paused as she reached the jawline of the smaller boy. His ear was a strange shape, coming up to a point. She turned to his brother and found the same deformity. Such a unique, personal feature would have to be covered with hats.

"Ada…" One of the boys murmured, picking at his nails as he waited his turn to be shorn, "Père…ada…"

Delphine reached out to get his attention. The child looked at her thoughtfully. She nodded encouragingly. It sounded as though he was trying to understand her language. Delphine pointed to the window at the sleeping tom cat the boys had been playing with that morning.

"_Chat_," She said firmly as the animal stretched and yawned in the pool of sunlight.

The boy's eyes flickered, "Chat… _muron_."

"_Muron_." Delphine repeated, the boys giggling at her clumsy repetition of the word.

The rest of the afternoon was spent repeating words. It was an activity the children soon excelled in at a rate Delphine had never seen in her years teaching at the local school. Since her resignation a few months earlier, she hadn't realized how much she missed teaching.

"You know, they cannot stay here." Her grandmother said quietly after the boys had been put to bed, "If they are being hunted, it will only be a matter of time."

"What do you propose then, eh?" Delphine snapped, her tone out of character, "You don't think I'm aware of that? Ten of my students went missing in a month. Ten beautiful children, turned in by their own teachers to the authorities. And why? Because they were Jews…nothing more."

"That is our world now, girl." Her grandmother turned towards the kitchen table where Delphine sat, "It's best we be looking out for our own."

"Father didn't."

"Your father died in a bloody, flooded trench, choking on mustard gas."

"I won't stop fighting. It would make his death pointless." Delphine stood, staring directly at her grandmother, "I could not live with myself otherwise."

"You might not have to for very long if the soldiers catch us harboring Jewish children."

Delphine grew silent. Her grandmother was tough love and a cooking spoon. However, she was also very sensible. A part of Delphine knew that these boys were something else…from somewhere else. A mystery. That same part knew that the twins were not Jewish and the soldiers would not be hunting for them. However, her pragmatic grandmother would never believe such a theory. Delphine would keep her suspicions to herself for now.

"You do not remember the war." Her grandmother said firmly, "These Germans…they are not like those. They are polite. If we keep to ourselves, ride out this occupation, all will be well."

Delphine wondered if her grandmother even put the First World War on par with what was happening now. Worse atrocities than those seen in the trenches of 1918 were on the horizon if something was not done to stop them.

She bit her tongue, "Good night, grandmother."

Kissing her on the temple, she retreated to her room where the boys slept on her bed. She had resigned herself to the couch by the small fire place. Outside the wind had continued to blow hard, banging the naked branches of the almond tree against her window pane.

"Alagos."

Delphine turned to see the boys sitting up in bed, the quilt pulled up to their chins and eyes wide. She walked towards them.

"Wind storm…_Alagos_." She repeated, nodding towards the window and tucking them down into the feather mattress, "Sleep now."

* * *

As his brother seemed to drift off into a waking dream, the child kept his eyes on the window. He was watching. Something turned his stomach in this place, as though the women were waiting for someone to appear and snatch them away. He and his brother both believed there was someone still hunting them.

So the child listening to the even breathing of his brother and the girl by the dying fire as he watched for monsters in the night.


	3. Fire Monster

Barely a week had passed before the twins could form sentences in French. While Delphine struggled to make sense of simple words in their language, the boys made quick work of her own tongue. It was mystifying to Delphine. She had taught children older than they for nearly eight years and never before had she seen such aptness and discipline.

"Mémé?"

Grandmother turned in surprise as one of the boys entered the kitchen where she stood kneading dough. Delphine looked back from where she was busy plucking one of the last of their chickens. His brother entered the room after him and they both approached the old woman with palms extended.

"Sweet?" One of them asked quietly.

Grandmother shook her head with a chuckle, "I fear we've spoiled them."

"I cannot believe how quickly they have learned our language." Delphine shook her head, perching a hand on her hip.

Grandmother turned to the clay pot on the hearth and unwrapped the rice paper containing the last of their sugar cubes. Delphine smiled to herself to see Mémé so extravagant with what little they still possessed. With a censuring look, she handed the boys each a cube.

"That will be the last of your sweet, do you understand?" She crossed her flour streaked, bare arms over her chest imposingly, "There will be no more for quite some time."

The children nodded and Delphine knew by the look on their little faces that they comprehended her perfectly. She chuckled to herself and turned back to the chicken. It was a thin bird with very little substance. However, in a stew with some meaty bone marrow it might sustain them for the rest of the week.

Mémé had found a couple of Delphine's old winter hats from when she was a child for the boys to cover their ears with. She had knitted them for her only grandchild from the rough, warm wool of their sheep. Those had been rich days when they had plenty of food and peace in the countryside.

Following the invasion of 1940, the Demarcation line between occupied France and the Vichy province was laid just miles away from their little village. However, Mémé had refused to travel south. Delphine agreed, especially now as it seemed there was no difference between occupied and "free" France.

Delphine glanced over her shoulder. The boys were playing with the cat by the window; sucking on their sugar cubes and licking their sticky fingers. She couldn't help but wonder if they would be safer in the Vichy south. Perhaps, like with many issues, it wouldn't make a difference.

"What are these boys called?"

The question struck Delphine dumb. She realized that she had never tried to find out the names of the twins. She glanced over at Mémé who arched an eyebrow expectantly.

"You haven't tried to find out?"

"I hadn't thought of it."

Mémé chuckled lowly to herself as she pounded the mass of dough into a flat cake.

"They seem sharp enough to our language," She said, rounding out the edges of what would be a loaf of Horsebread, "Why don't you ask them?"

Delphine nodded and set down the chicken. She approached the boys by the window. They turned to her keenly. The cat stretched leisurely and meandered away, bored with the scene. Delphine knelt and took each of their hands in her own. One of the boys reached up and took a white, chicken feather that had become caught in her dark hair.

"Name." Delphine began gently squeezing their hands and then pointing to herself, "Delphine."

The boys studied her for a moment. However, the light in their eyes brightened as they quickly realized the game. One of the boys whispered to the other one in their own secret tongue.

"Delphine," The child pointed to her with a smile, "Delphine."

She nodded, smiling broadly, "Yes, yes. And you? Name."

She pointed a finger at his chest. The child nodded solemnly.

"Eluréd." He laid a free hand on his stomach before turning to his brother and touching his shoulder, "Elurín."

"I've never heard such names before." Mémé said quietly behind them.

"Neither have I." Delphine replied without looking away from the boys. Her brow furrowed as she studied them; her delightful mystery.

"Delphine." The smaller twin called Elurín said with a shy smile to her.

Both boys looked towards her grandmother almost at the same time and pointed towards her.

"Mémé-Sweet!" Eluréd cried pointing to her, his brother agreeing enthusiastically.

"Mon dieu, I truly have spoiled the little cherubs, haven't I?" Mémé bemoaned dryly.

Delphine couldn't stop the deep belly laugh that rose up in her. It was the first time in months she had laughed like that. Impulsively, she pulled the boys into her arms in a tight embrace.

"Oh, mes poulettes!" She exclaimed between breaths, "My little chicks."

Mémé chuckled to herself, her gaze trailing over to the grey weather outside. Snow would be falling soon with December coming on. Perhaps, if the weather were bad enough, it would isolate them from any unwanted company. She shivered, her gaze resting on the dark mass of trees across the barren pasture. She prayed that whatever darkness that felt so very present would be kept at bay for just a little longer. Just until they figured out what to do with their little runaways.

* * *

The frigid night that Delphine found the twins in the wood, the explosion on the train tracks had been a success. The Nazi supply train was derailed and the members of the Résistance scattered into the forest. Delphine had limped towards her home and fatefully encountered the lost twins on the path. However, on the other side of the burning tracks, another figure emerged from the wood.

A young soldier, who had escaped the inferno, approached cagily. His breath came fast as he held his rifle up at the figure.

"Sie!" He cried out, motioning to the massive figure to hit the frozen ground, "Sie! Runter auf den boden!"

The young man cocked the rifle, trembling from shock. He could hear the faint voices of his comrades as they struggled to put together what had just occurred. Hopefully, reinforcements would come soon.

The strange figure turned towards him as another explosion ripped through one of the back railcars, shrapnel bursting in every direction. The Nazi held up his weapon as the sky filled with fire, illuminating the towering figure of a man. He was like nothing the soldier had seen in his life; from the Russian border to the Mediterranean coast.

He wore a thick black cloak over what looked to be steel armor. It jarred the soldier with its anachronistic quality. The layered metal wrapped around the man's massive chest. The young man almost laughed at the strangeness of it except that the stranger centered his sharp, narrowed gaze on him; long, dark red hair trailing behind him in the heated, smoky air. The German swallowed hard as the man drew a long, heavy sword from his side and started towards him.

"Stoppen!" He warned shrilly, tightening his grip on the trigger, "Stoppen!"

The warrior kept his steady gait towards him. Panicked, the Nazi fired. He heard the bullet ting as it sunk into the warrior's arm but still he came at him, his expression fierce yet terrifyingly calm.

"Stoppen!"

A final explosion lit up the night as the Nazi soldier was run through by the warrior's blade.

* * *

Delphine burst from her blankets, gasping as though she were being held underwater. She swung her legs over the side of the couch, the wound on her shin throbbed dully. Her head spun and sweat was cooling uncomfortably between her shoulder blades.

"Delphine?"

She looked over from her make shift bed by the fire. Elurín was sitting up, his brother breathing evenly beside him. His dark mop of hair was cowlicked from the pillow. Taking a deep breath, she made her way towards the bed. The scant, half shadowed moon shivered between the branches of the tree outside.

"What is it, child?" She asked, her heart beat steadying as she smoothed back his hair.

"Monster."

It was a new word they had learned by accident that day. The cat had attacked Delphine's wounded leg upon her entering the house and she had called it a monster before kicking it away. The boys, inquisitive as ever, asked her immediately what the new word meant.

Delphine smiled quietly, "Do not be afraid, child. No harm will come to you while I am here."

Elurín's small, pale face grew grave, "Fire monster."

His brother sat up next to him. Delphine had not realized that he had been listening to their conversation.

"Fire monster." Eluréd confirmed before reached out and taking Delphine by the wrist, "One hand."

Delphine's smile dimmed at the vehemence in the boys' voices and the look of faded terror in their eyes. They were too young to carry such nightmares. She could only imagine what horrors they had seen to conjure up such a detailed imagining as a one-handed fire monster.

With a sigh, she crawled onto to the bed, positioning herself between them. They cuddled into the sides of her thick wool sweater. She kissed them each on the crown of the head.

"Sleep now." She whispered, keeping one eye on the darkened window as the three of them drifted off.


	4. What Came with the Snow

The first snow fell heavily, blocking them off from the village for the day. The boys reveled in the several feet of snow outside the house, playing in the icy garden while Delphine chopped wood nearby. She laughed as the boys jumped face first into the fresh white drifts. Their faces were bright red with cold and bodies shivering by the time she herded them inside but they were smiling brighter than she had yet to witness.

"They will catch cold." Mémé muttered, the boys huddled by the kitchen hearth with steaming mugs of tea.

"They are hardy," Delphine shook out her damp strands of dark hair as she removed the kerchief, "Eluréd hit me square in the face with a snowball."

At hearing his name, the boy turned and shot her a cheeky sneer, his feet swinging over the edge of his chair. Delphine returned his expression with a wry grin.

"Just you wait until next time, my little fae!" She warned, wagging a finger at him after tearing off her mitten.

Mémé glanced over at the boys as she wrung the dampness from their socks.

"You know," She ventured quietly, "They do have that look, don't they? From their funny little ears to their bright eyes, it's as though…"

Delphine glanced with interest at the older woman, whose expression had become distant.

"It's as though they stepped out of a fairy tale?"

Mémé seemed to snap out of her thoughts at Delphine's statement. She scowled, bringing the socks to hang by the fire.

"Nonsense." She muttered to herself, rubbing the boys' heads roughly.

Delphine bit her lower lip, letting her eyes trail over to the children once more. It made her feel more comfortable knowing that her grandmother saw the same strangeness in them. She couldn't quite put her finger on it but there was an otherworldliness about the twins. Elurín looked back at her, waving her over impatiently. Delphine obeyed, kneeling next to him. The boy wrapped his arms around her neck.

"I like being here with you, Delphine." He spoke in near perfect French, his voice lightly accented.

Delphine responded by pulling him into her arms warmly.

That was when there came a knock at the front door.

Mémé's wide, blue eyes shot over to her granddaughter. Delphine needed no prompting. Silently, she picked up a twin in each arm and rushed into the bedroom. The boys looked up at her with wide eyes.

"Have they come again to kills us for papa's jewels?" Elurín suddenly asked as she opened the wide doors of the cherry wood wardrobe.

Even in the heightened panic of the moment, Delphine halted at the child's odd statement. She turned and looked down at the boys. Before she could ask him to explain, Delphine heard voices in the foyer down the hall.

"Quick in here," She scooted them into the wardrobe filled with musty woolen and fur clothes, "Be still and don't talk, mes poulettes. I will be back soon. Do not open the door until I say."

She closed the ornately carved doors with a prayer. Smoothing her heavy, blood red sweater and shaking out her damp hair, she took a few deep breaths as she reentered the kitchen. She was relieved to not see soldiers but their closest neighbor, Pierre Habert, standing in front of the fire.

"Ah Delphine!" He cried, lumbering over to her and giving her a quick embrace.

"Monsieur Habert," She managed with a shaky smile, Mémé did not meet her gaze as she appeared to be stacking the wood Delphine had just brought in.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to interrupt you during tea." He motioned to the twins' abandoned mugs on the kitchen table.

Delphine casually picked one up and wrapped her fingers around the cooling clay to steady her trembling. She smiled congenially.

"Would you like some, Monsieur?" She offered.

"Do not eat me out of house and home, not with winter coming on, Pierre." Mémé grumbled standing and shooting him a glare.

Delphine had to admit she was impressed by her grandmother's cool head. Monsieur Habert was no Nazi sympathizer nor was he a Vichy stool pigeon. However, the less others knew of the boys, the better.

"Oh yes, Adélaïde, I came expecting such a welcome from you." He winked at Delphine who smiled gently back, sitting down at the table, "I was merely in the area checking my traps and wanted to make sure you ladies were well. With all the goings-on lately, the wife and I get concerned about you two on your own out here."

"Pierre, you of all people know I can handle myself." Mémé glanced at him over the rim of her glasses.

"That I have no doubt of," Pierre shook his salt and pepper hair, droplets of melted snow falling to the shoulders of his coat, "I pity any Nazi who crosses your threshold."

"What has been going on? We knew about the incident with the train a few nights ago." Delphine asked, her face feigning innocence.

"Incident." Pierre scoffed, taking a seat, "That was no incident if you ask me. I've wondered for some time if our village was housing a cell of the Résistance and that confirmed it. I have no taste for Nazis but I would prefer it if the buggers kept their heads down and mouths shut for now. No use in bringing down hellfire on the rest of us."

"Are the Nazis going to retaliate?" Mémé asked calmly as she poured him an extra mug of tea.

"They are certainly increasing their presence in this area. That was a supply train but still, some men were killed."

Delphine looked down at her tea. She tried not to think of the fresh blood on her hands. Though her belief in their cause had not faltered, being responsible for the death of another was something she was going to have to learn to cope with. This war would no doubt make killers of them all.

"When can we expect the tracks to be repaired?"

"Not sure," Pierre leaned forward, nodding his thanks to Mémé as he took the mug from her, "But there was whispers of stranger things."

Delphine cut her eyes over to Mémé but her grandmother's steady gaze remained on their neighbor.

"They say," He began, taking a draw from the mug, "There are some wild figures running in those woods. Though the Nazis have tried to keep the situation mum, there are rumors about what happened the night the train exploded. Some of those Nazi soldiers…well they weren't killed by no explosion."

"What happened?" Delphine's voice was low, the light dimming as evening came on outside.

"Some of the men brought into town," He continued, "They had weird wounds, like nothing seen at least in this decade. Then there is one of the doctors from town that the Nazis coerced into tending their wounded. He spoke to one of the soldiers. He said the boy was near wild with fright. Though he'll survive it, he bore what looked like a flesh wound from a large blade."

"That doesn't seem too out of the ordinary, some men still have their swords and bayonets from the Great War. With the weapons ban, there are probably some reverting to old ways." Mémé concluded with a sniff.

"But this boy was jabbering on about a warrior with bright red hair in a suit of armor," Pierre laughed to himself, "I know how funny it sounds, but you never know these days."

"No, you never do." Delphine replied thoughtfully, swirling the now cold tea in her mug, "Did the soldier say anything else?"

"Not much else, I suppose." Pierre shook his head, "They sedated him soon after. I think they mentioned that he was raving in detail about the man; a red headed giant with one hand."

Pierre's booming laughter intermingled with Mémé's low chuckle. Delphine gave a breathy laugh in response as her fingers tightened on the mug. Her heart pounded in her breast and she felt her face blanching._ Fire monster. One hand._

"It's nothing to fear, girl." Pierre stated, noticing Delphine's heightened state, "Just the delusions of a wounded man."

"Oh yes," Delphine replied, standing shakily and walking over to the kettle by the fire, "I'm not worried. It's just been a lot to handle recently."

"Well I should go," Pierre stood as Mémé went to fetch his scarf and gloves where they hung by the fire, "I'm just glad to find you ladies safe and well. You know where to find us if you need anything. There may come a time when you'll feel more comfortable with others closer to town. You know our spare room is always open to you."

"Certainly, Pierre." Mémé smiled genuinely at him before giving him a quick side embrace, "We appreciate your offer and will keep it in mind."

"She'll never leave the old place, will she?" Pierre winked at Delphine, hooking a thumb towards her grandmother as he headed for the door.

Delphine shook her head with a smile, "I don't expect anytime soon."

Mémé showed him through the foyer. Delphine took the chance to race back to the bedroom, the blood rushing through her head. She opened the door to the wardrobe to find the boys huddled together, their eyes wide on her.

"It's all right," She comforted, pulling them into her arms, "It was nothing to be frightened of."

"Monster?" Eluréd asked into her neck.

She tugged them off of her, looking directly into their matching sets of quartz blue eyes.

"Can you tell me more of this monster?" She asked gently, "And of your papa's gems?"

* * *

The snow slowed as evening drew on. It came down as a dusting, the moon and stars hidden by the pregnant clouds. Outside, the wind had lessened to a soft breeze. The trees trembled overhead as a barn owl hooted in the quiet, winter night.

The lone, heavily cloaked figure struggled through the snow. He moved with surprising grace despite his wound and his impressive height. Ahead in the darkness, he could make out the warmth of lights in a window. Deliriously, he turned towards the abode.

* * *

Delphine sat lost in thought by the kitchen hearth, her boots propped up on the iron grate. She rested with her chin between her fingers, mesmerized by the flames. She didn't even hear Mémé come up behind her. The old woman laid a wrinkled hand on her shoulder firmly.

"You've been quiet since Pierre left." She stated, taking the seat by Delphine.

Delphine stirred, trying to decide where to start, "I spoke with the boys after he left."

"And?"

"They have been telling me things, whispering about where they come from…their family…and fears."

"Doubtless they have experienced much for their young age," Mémé nodded solemnly, "You have done well to keep their minds from the present."

"The stories they tell though…"

Mémé fully turned her attention on the young woman. Delphine trained her eyes on the fire, the golden light soaking her olive complexion. Mémé studied her grandchild, thinking absently how much she favored her father. She had the same long face and dark eyes almost too large for her face; the dimpled chin. She brushed away the sharp pain at the thought of her long dead son.

Suddenly there came a cry from the bedroom. It wasn't panicked but obviously one of the boys was troubled by something, probably a nightmare.

"I'll go." Mémé said, laying a hand on Delphine's knee before she could rise, "You rest here. You have done well with them, _ma petite bijou_."

Delphine settled back into the chair, mulling over whether she should tell her grandmother what she had been told. They were tales of mad princes, precious jewels worth killing for and family members slaying each other; the stuff of folk tales. Part of her wondered if the boys had made up an imaginary world to cope with the horrors of reality. However, Pierre's news from the night of the train crash rang in her head. _A red headed giant with one hand. Fire monster. One hand._ Such a coincidence was too ironic.

Delphine nearly fell from her chair in fright as a loud bang came at the garden door next to her.

It came again and again. She could hear Mémé reacting quickly in the bedroom not far away, whispering as she ushered the boys into hiding. Delphine stood on weak legs and reached for the meat cleaver hanging from the wall. Gripping it behind her back, she approached the door. The persistent banging continued but no voice followed. Surely Nazis or government officials would announce their presence and demand entrance, not merely beat at a door wordlessly. She laid a hand on the door before opening it. The banging weakened.

"Who is it?" She demanded, keeping her quavering voice as firm as possible, "Who!"

There came a groan but no legible words. Tentatively, Delphine pulled the chain lock and opened the door slightly. The light spilled out to illuminate a piqued and grey face looming over her. He was sweating and eyes half lidded.

"Help," He groaned, Delphine realizing he had spoken in the same tongue as the twins.

Before she could respond, the large man fell forward onto the door. His weight pushed it completely open. Delphine chirped in surprise as he collapsed hard onto the kitchen floor, unconscious. Dark red hair splayed out like streams of blood on the hardwood. Delphine knelt next to him, turning him onto his back.

"Mémé, come quick!" She yelled, brushing the hair from his face.

Her heart nearly stopped as she suddenly recognized something. He had no right hand.


	5. The Wounded Stranger

_Maitimo_.

The voice came as clear as daylight through rain. It pierced his barely conscious mind.

_Maitimo_.

It had to be Nerdanel. The gentle hand brushing against his face as he fitfully shifted like a frightened child. He struggled to open his eyes but found he could not. However, he could still sense his mother nearby. There was a searing heat in his shoulder and side.

_Maitimo_.

* * *

Mémé did not speak as she and Delphine struggled to remove the man's heavy armor. A piece of the breast piece clanged awkwardly to the floor. Neither of the women tried to quiet what they were doing. Dragging his impressive figure up the stairs to the closed off second floor rooms had been a chore unto itself. By the time they had gotten him onto the antique, four poster bed in one of the spare rooms, both women were gasping with exertion.

"He's dead weight." Delphine managed as she unhooked the rest of the armor.

"But not yet dead." Mémé murmured, lifting his eyelid to inspect the whites of his eyes, "He's in a bad way though. And it doesn't look like this is the first time for him either."

Delphine looked to see that a deep scar ran over his eye from the dusky brow to the middle of his cheek. It made his otherwise handsome countenance look grim. Something caught her eye underneath his hair.

"Mémé," Delphine breathed, "Look."

She pushed back the shelf of thick hair to expose pointed ears much like the twins. Mémé's expression was unreadable as she registered the similarity. The man groaned and shifted. Delphine backed away, holding her hands up.

"What do we do if he wakes?"

"He won't anytime soon," Mémé stated, "And if he does, I'll deal with it."

She nodded towards the door where she had left a metal hammer for insurance. Delphine lifted a brow in surprise.

"You'll kill him?"

"No, just render him unconscious and drag him into the authorities. That is, if he gets fresh with me." Mémé growled as she ripped the neck open of his fine linen shirt, "Gunshot wound, infected."

"It doesn't look like just the one."

Mémé gave Delphine a glance. Her granddaughter nodded towards a blood stain at his torso and one on his opposite upper arm. Without much decorum, Mémé ripped away what remained of his shirt.

"These definitely aren't the first wounds he's seen." She said, staring in shock at the man's heaving chest.

Delphine looked over her grandmother's shoulder. She shuddered. Horrific scarring ran up and down his torso. The new wounds merely intersected where the old ones had grown over.

"Mon dieu," Delphine covered her mouth with a trembling hand.

"He's much too young to have fought in the Great War," Mémé mumbled to herself as she began to ascertain the state of the entry wounds, "It makes absolutely no sense."

"More things have happened in the past few years than just the Great War." Delphine found herself responding pointedly as she held the candle over the man's body.

"Go light the fire." Mémé snapped, "I can't see a thing."

Biting her tongue, Delphine obeyed. The room was bone jarringly cold. She and her grandmother had closed off the upper floor and attic of the family manor and lived only on the first floor. He would be isolated safely up here, away from the twins. Mémé had tucked the boys in bed before helping Delphine drag the man up the stairs. So far, she hadn't heard a peep from them. She hoped they would remain ignorant to the new house guest.

Delphine retreated downstairs to bring up the bowl of hot water Mémé had requested. As she entered the kitchen she saw the boys peeking around the corner.

"Get to bed." She directed firmly.

Eluréd promptly ignored her, "We heard loud noises."

"It is nothing, just a wounded man."

"Can we see him?"

"No," Delphine dropped to the floor and took him by the shoulders, "I am asking you please, dear one, go to bed. I will be down presently."

With a lingering look, Eluréd gave a reluctant nod and met his brother at the door. The boys joined hands and disappeared down the hallway. Delphine sighed, brushing her hair from her face as she cradled the hot, copper bowl to her waist.

With any luck, the one handed stranger upstairs would remain a mystery to the boys. She didn't want to think of their reaction should they discover their monster was sleeping just over their heads.

Mémé had remained upstairs after tending to his wounds best they could. She had been a nurse with field training during the Great War and recalled much of what she had learned during those dark years. Delphine had spent a restless night between the twins, watching the snow slow to a stop and listening for any disturbing noises overhead. By dawn, her head ached and mouth was dry.

The next two days were unremarkable. The twins sensed the change in the women but asked no more questions of the stranger housed upstairs. Mémé taught Delphine how to change the man's bandages. They had both done their best to get water into him.

"There has to be a simpler way," Delphine mumbled to herself as she pursed his full lips with her fingers and attempted to dribbled water between them.

To her surprise and relief, he moved his mouth and took in the water. She watched his thick throat move as he swallowed. He wouldn't die of thirst yet. The wounds were healing fairly quickly. Mémé had been surprised how well they were doing.

"This should take much longer but I think our patient will be well much faster than any I have ever seen." She had said before leaving Delphine alone with the man to tend to the boys.

Delphine tried again with the water and he seemed to be taking to it quite well though he remained unconscious. She wiped the side of his mouth where a few droplets were running down his skin. With a tired smile, she started towards the door.

"He's taking water now." Delphine announced bounding down the stairs.

Mémé was busy feeding the boys their lunch of vegetable stew. She looked up and nodded quietly.

"Good, here." She handed her a plate of stew with a slab of Horsebread, "See if he'll take the food."

Delphine winked at the twins who were busy clanging their spoons against their plates carelessly. Retreating up the stairs, she could hear Mémé scolding them to eat while their food was hot. Holding the warm plate with both hands, she nudged the door open with her foot. Her heart beat hard as she immediately noticed the bed was vacant.

Before she could speak, she looked over to see the immense figure of the man stride out of the corner. She gasped as he roughly took her by the throat and shoved her against the door frame, the plate of food clattering to the floor. His gaze was disturbing with the fire behind it, his face flushed from fever and effort. Despite his wounds, his grip was still strong but not so much that she couldn't speak.

"Where am I?" He growled, his face inches from her own, his breath warm on her skin, "Who are you?"

Delphine quickly thought through the words in his language that she knew, "You were…injure. Hurt." She gasped, struggling against him, "Please, we help you."

He snarled and tightened his grip, "You are a woman? Of what house?"

Delphine assumed she had merely misinterpreted him, "Please, put me down."

He studied her for a moment longer, a droplet of sweat running down from his fiery hairline and following his angled jawline. He let her go. Delphine dropped back down to her feet, her knees nearly giving way. He stalked away, obviously still weak from the fever he had been fighting. The bandages covering his bare, scarred chest had a little red to them that had not been there earlier. No doubt at least one of the wounds had reopened.

"Please," She choked, grasping her throat in her hand, "Lay down."

He looked at a loss for a moment but stumbled slightly.

"Lay down before I have to put you in the bed myself." She demanded, "Please don't make me do that again."

He glared at her but obeyed, his face paling as he rested against the sheets.

"Where am I?"

"Near the border, are you from the Vichy province?"

He looked up at her quizzically, "No, not at all."

"I think it would be best if we saved the questions for when you are healthier." She stated, "May I?"

She motioned to the pillows that had been mussed. He nodded tentatively. Without another word, she propped them to a more comfortable position, his eyes never leaving her face. She met his gaze briefly before turning away. Picking up the discarded heel of bread at the door, she brought it over to him.

"You would have had more, but you upset the plate." She stated plainly.

He took the bread from her, his gaze still suspicious, "You must forgive me. I have seen many strange things in your land."

"I'm sure." She answered, not really wanting to know where he had come from at the moment. She was still trying to forget the feeling of his fingers against her throat, "Try to get some sleep. I'll be back later to change your bandages."

With that, she left the room and closed the door behind her. Taking a deep breath, she locked it behind her. Delphine leaned back against the wall, cradling her face in her shaking hands. She wondered what they exactly had living under their roof.


End file.
